So It Goes
by lululiya
Summary: Following the lives of several young students throughout their years at Hogwarts. Much of the story corresponds with the official HP timeline, with various subplots pertaining to the OCs Kenneth, Marcia, Anya and Lydia.


**Please excuse the slight Sue-ish tendencies of Anya - My intention is to recreate how a 'nervous-by-nature', sheltered young girl would feel after being shoved into a brand new environment. She isn't supposed to be cute, I promise!**

"I'm not sure if I want to go anymore, Daddy," said a young girl of eleven, clinging to her father's arm.

Her father knelt grabbed her shoulder. "Anya dear, you were so excited before – What has changed?" He brushed a lock of honey blond hair from her face and looked her in the eye.

Anya glanced around anxiously, taking in her surroundings. They were at a train station and people were bustling around noisily, adding to Anya's anxiety. The scarlet locomotive said "Hogwarts Express" on the front and children were running in and out of the carriages, saying their last minute goodbyes to their parents. Some didn't even bother exiting the train and prefered to just lean out of the window and shout to their mothers and fathers, who shook their heads with impatience.

Anya looked at her father, who's normally stern, dark features were softened. She drew in a shuddering breath, feeling the tears start to come on.

"I'm scared. I don't want to go. I don't know anybody and I'll miss you!" She hugged her father tightly, sobbing into his jacket. Her father rubbed her back.

"It will be okay, Anastascia. I'll write to you as often as I can. You'll have lots of fun, I assure you. Now come on, let's get you on the train." Anya broke away from her father and wiped her eyes with her sleeve, sniffling. She grabbed her trunk and dragged it over to the train. An older boy stepped out of the carriage and smiled at her.

"No need to worry about that. I'll take care of it." Anya blushed.

"No, it's okay. I've got it – Really."

The boy laughed and shook her head, grabbing hold of her trunk. "No, I insist. I'm a prefect, you see. It's my job to help younger students along their first time. Now come on, the train's about to leave." He stuck out his hand and Anya smiled meekly, grabbing hold. He hoisted her up onto the train.

"Thanks," She said quietly. She then turned around to her father who was standing on the platform with his hands in his pockets.

"Bye, daddy," She said shakily. He smiled.

"Goodbye, princess."

The boy put his hand on her shoulder. "Better step aside, I've got to shut the door." Anya took two steps back and gave her father one last look as the door shut. She felt tears well up in her eyes again but fought against them. She couldn't cry, not in front of the older students.

The boy noticed though, and put his arm around her. "Don't you worry about it, kiddo. It'll be fine. You're nervous now, but before long you'll be having the time of your life. Now, let's find you somewhere to sit." He led her down a narrow hallway as they searched for a carriage with a vacant seat.

"I'm Samuel, by the way. Samuel Wilson."

Anya bit her lip. "I'm Anastascia Alluliyev."

Samuel laughed. "That's quite a mouthful. What's that, russian?"

"Yeah," Anya replied meekly, nodding. "Are there going to be any seats for me? Am I going to have to sit on the floor?" Samuel shook his head.

"No, no – We should be able to find you one. You might have to sit with some of the older kids, however...But we'll try to avoid that." Anya sighed.

"Thank you."

They shuffled through the hallway, having to stop for the occasional person who burst out of their compartment to switch to another. Inside each carriage, Anya could hear kids laughing and talking. She hoped that she wouldn't have to sit with any of these loud kids, she wouldn't fit in too well.

At last, Samuel stopped. "Ah, here we are. Finally, a vacant spot." He opened the compartment door and gestured for her to enter.

"I'll see you later, alright?"

Anya nodded and stepped into the compartment as Samuel shut the door behind her. Inside were five kids, all around her age. She took her seat next to a girl with short brown hair, who was reading a book. The others were talking excitedly amongst themselves, seemingly unaware of Anya's presence.

"I hope I'm in Gryffindor!" Exclaimed a blond boy with freckles. "Everyone in my family's been in every house _but _Gryffindor. It would be nice to be the first!"

"Yeah!" Agreed a mousey girl with black hair. "Gryffindor is where I wanna be, too! My dad was in Gryffindor and he's the bravest person I know!"

Two identical boys with fiery orange hair burst into laughter.

"I don't really care _where_ I end up, do you George?" Said the first, glancing at his twin.

"Not overly, Fred." George said smugly, putting his arms behind his head. "It doesn't make much difference, does it? I mean, we won't do very well no matter _where _we end up!"

"But it does matter. You should take some pride in where you end up."

Everyone except the girl with the book turned to look at Anya, who was swinging her legs and peering curiously at the group of students. The boy with the blond hair raised an eyebrow and the mousey girl rolled her eyes. The twins seemed uninterested and were instead surveying, almost as though they were trying to decide if she was worth listening to or not.

The blond boy sighed. "And who are _you, _exactly?" The mousey girl nodded, brushing a strand of whispy black hair from her eyes. Anya felt nervous all of a sudden, regretting her outburst.

"I...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been eavesdropping –"

The blond boy cut her off. "No, no, answer the question. Who are you?"

"Anastascia – Anya – Alluliyev. I'm a first year, just like you. What's your name?"

The boy raised his eyebrow again, scanning her up and down. "I'm Kenny MacMaster. This is Marcia Doucette" He gestured to the mousey girl, "And the girl with the book is Lydia Huntington." Lydia looked up from her book and turned to face Anya.

"Hm. Another first year." She commented in an airy, thoughful voice. "You look like a Ravenclaw to me. Perhaps a Hufflepuff." She then turned back to her book, leaving the others to their discussions.

The boy with the orange hair named Fred cleared his throat, surveying his nails. "Forgetting to introduce someone?"

George cut in, his arms crossed in mock anger. "Or rather, _two _someones?"

Kenny rolled his eyes. "These two are Fred and George Weasley. Don't even bother trying to figure out which is which – I've known them since we were in diapers and I still haven't got it."

Fred gasped, a look of horror crossing his face. "_Kenny!_" He exclaimed, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "You still haven't figured out the difference between George and I? I feel so unloved!"

Marcia laughed. "What difference? As far as I can see, you're both identically smug, identically troublesome and identically _annoying_." Fred and George shot her a scathing look and Fred threw a cushion at her, causing her to scowl.

Anya laughed nervously, playing with her hair. She wasn't very good at talking to new people – She was shy and came off as socially awkward and weird. This group didn't make things easier for her, either. None of them seemed very warm or friendly – Least of all Lydia. How long would it be before she became the butt of their jokes? From past experience, she was going to bet on 'not long at all'.

"So...Anya, was it?" Said Fred, stretching. "You seemed pretty adamant in your belief that the house you're sorted into should be important. Where do you hope to end up?"

They all looked at her expectantly. After all, if she had enough nerve to coach them about having pride in their house she should be able to deliver. Anya smiled nervously and started to fidget.

"Well, I don't know...That is to say...Hmm..." She paused thoughtfully, biting her lip. "Maybe...Oh, I don't know. I guess I'm not too fussy about where I end up. I just know that whichever house they sort me into, I'll be proud to be there."

Kenny rolled his eyes while Marcia giggled, tossing her hair over her shoulders. Fred and George let out a simultaneous, sarcastic "_Aww!_" and Anya suddenly felt very foolish.

"Well, you asked me! Why would you ask me, then laugh at my answer? That seems awfully unfair to me." She pouted, crossing her arms and legs. Kenny snorted.

"Because," he said with a smirk, "It was such a typical, ridiculous, _perfect_ answer. Who are you trying to impress, Princess? You're not fooling anyo – OI! Knock it off, George!"

George had been trying to feed Kenny's owl bits of peanut brittle he'd found in his backpack. George started and pulled his hands awake from the cage, dropping the peanut brittle all over the floor.

"Don't feed my bird that rubbish, you idiot," Kenny snapped, throwing his cloak over the owl's cage. "His beak will stick!"

George rolled his eyes. "Kenny, _please._ You worry too much about the damn owl. Besides, what am I going to do with all this peanut brittle Mum packed for me? She knows Fred and I hate it, so we certainly won't be eating it." Fred nodded wisely, pulling his own pack of brittle out of his backpack.

Marcia sighed impatiently. "If you don't want to eat it, why don't you just throw it out when we get off the train? A simple solution for two simple boys." Fred snorted.

"Throw it out? What a horrible waste!"

"Yeah," George chimed it, throwing a small chunk of peanut brittle at Marcia, who then picked it up and chucked it back viciously, "Besides Marcia my dear, we've had quite enough of your insults!"

"Oh, please," Kenny jeered, crossing his arms, "You've had enough of her insults? Georgie, you're a terrible liar. What would you do without Marcia putting you two down all day?"

Marcia ducked as a piece of flying brittle narrowly missed her forehead. "I dunno what they'd do, honestly. I practically _created_ them!"

Fred and George laughed, rolling their eyes and swatting away the chunks of food Marcia was hurling back at them.

"_Created_ us?" Fred said incredulously, "Don't flatter yourself, Doucette."

George lobbed a huge chunk of brittle at Marcia, who was fuming, "Fred, lay off a bit, she's got a point – She's pretty much been our verbal punching bag. If she hadn't been so willing to sacrifice her dignity, we'd never have become the masters of articulacy we are today!"

"Oh, aren't you just a _riot_, Weasley!" Marcia said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Aren't you just _hilarious_! Where ever do you come up with it? Please, share your genius with the re – OUCH! George, that hit me in the eye you prat!"

Lydia, Kenny and Anya sat quietly and watched at the other three attacked eachother. It was a pretty sad display – Three eleven year old students insulting eachother and throwing bits of candy every which way. Anya sighed. Are these the kinds of kids she'll be doomed to spend the next seven years with? It hardly seemed possible that she'd survive it.

Just then there was a knock on the compartment door. Lydia put down her book and slid the door open, where a pleasant looking, plump woman stood with a trolley full of candy, chocolate and other treats.

"Anything from the trolley, dears?" She said sweetly, smiling down at them.

Fred and George plunged their hands into their pockets, looking for any money at all while screaming "Yes!" Marcia grabbed her backpack and searched furiously for her own money. It was clear that they were on the hunt for more ammunition.

"Er, no, we better not," Said Kenny, glancing nervously at the twins, who couldn't seem to pool enough money for anything on the trolley. "Thanks, anyway."

Marcia held up a hand. "Wait just a minute! I'd like some!" She seethed, throwing a scathing look at the twins who looked appalled.

"No way, Marcia!" Fred said, grabbing the coins from her hands. "If we can't get any new ammunition, you can't either! We play fair."

Marcia jumped up in an attempt to get her money back. "A game?" She cried, "When did this become a game? I sincerely just want to hurl chunks of food at you two for being so thick!"

Kenny rolled his eyes and turned back to the trolley lady. "Yeah, I think you'd better go before this gets ugly. Thanks anyway, Ma'am." He shot her an apologetic look and she slid the door shut, looking thoroughly confused.

"You two are embarrassing," Kenny mumbled, ruffling his straw colored hair. Fred and George were brushing pieces of peanut brittle off of their seats, rolling their eyes.

Marcia was scowling at the twins, who avoided her stare. Fred instead turned to Anya and looked her up and down.

"You've been awfully quiet. Are we that intimidating?"

Anya jumped a little, suddenly remembering her position. She felt her cheeks grow hot as the eyes of the others slowly turned towards her - Marcia looking unimpressed, Kenny annoyed, and Lydia with mild interest.

"Well, n-no!" She stammered, taken aback. The ginger haired boy was glaring at her in a way that made her unsure of his intentions. Was he joking? Or did he genuinely think she was as socially inept as she came across? She didn't trust herself to speak anymore and instead opted to stare at her hands. The compartment was silent now and feeling all their eyes on her, she couldn't stop her tears.

"Is she really crying?" Marcia scoffed, throwing George an incredulous look. "Honestly, she's crying! Is that all it takes for you? You won't last at Hogwarts – My big brother told me that the older students love to take the piss out of the first years."

Anya looked up at her, completely flushed. She felt the panic rising in her chest and without a second thought she jumped up, opened the compartment door and bounded down the hallway. Lydia closed her book and shot Marcia a very blatant "Why-do-you-always-take-things-too-far?" look, under which the mousey girl deflated slightly. Kenny rolled his eyes.

"Now you've done it, eh Doucette? First day at Hogwarts and we'll already be in trouble for bullying a student," he said, shaking his head in annoyance, "the poor girl is obviously a little touched in head, and I doubt any students will give her as much of a hard time as you just did."

"Absolutely barking," Fred chimed in with a laugh, "I would have thought that it were common sense not to make oneself out to be such an easy target on the first day!"

George nodded in agreement, leaning back in his seat with a broad smile, "I hope she fixes herself up a bit – Marcia's right, I give the poor girl a week before she ends up committed. School's a rough place, after all."


End file.
